by Ian Todd
“Took the frigging enjoyment oot ae buying they expensive glad-rags Ah’d bought specially fur the occasion,” she’d sniffed.
He’d offered tae go and take the snaps ae The Lairds properties himsel, bit she wis hivving none ae it.
“And anyway, Ah want ye tae try and find a few people tae speak tae Cleftie…fill him in oan whit we’re dealing wae here.”
“How much dis he know aboot me?” he’d asked.
“Like everywan else doon here, he reads the papers.”
“His he hid any dealings wae the others?”
“The Mankys? Naw, no really.”
“No really? Whit’s that supposed tae mean?”
“Ach, Ah think Simon might’ve put the wind up him at some point. Anyway, furget aw that. He’s costing me a fortune. Jist you mind and make sure Ah get ma money’s worth oot ae him. Whit wis the name ae that single malt again that the auld pirate likes?”
She’d also admitted that she’d wanted Cleftie oot ae the toon fur a few days while she set up her moves. He wis trustworthy, bit she didnae want him sniffing aboot until she wis ready and hid a handle oan how tae go aboot the business ae making her comeback against Hamilton, Lochinver’s local laird. She’d also grilled him oan how much Senga knew.
“Aye, well, you jist mind and look efter that wee darling,” she’d warned him.
He grabbed a pillow fae beside him and stuck it under the wan he hid. He knew that it wisnae finished between him and Senga…hopefully, the discussion, that wis.
He glanced across at the door. Mr Hopkins wis scratching tae get in. He’d wondered where the wee basturt hid disappeared tae. He hesitated before nipping up and letting him in, bit his nose goat the better ae him. There wis nae light coming fae under their bedroom door across the landing. The stepladder wis gone and the hatch oan the ceiling wis covered o’er. Despite her anger at him, she’d still put it away in the cupboard efter she’d come up the stair. That tended tae suggest that she wis still in control ae her emotions when she went tae bed. He wisnae sure if that wis a good or a bad sign ae whit wis tae come in the morning. He knew she widnae be asleep. No efter whit hid taken place doon the stairs hauf an hour earlier.
“See you, ya wee basturt, ye,” he said tae the cat, ruffling its heid wae his haun, as he leaned o’er and switched the lamp aff.
This wis the first time that he’d slept in the spare bed since they’d moved up fae the toon. It seemed strange, he thought tae himsel, as he turned o’er and shut his eyes.
Chapter Fifty Five
She automatically glanced across at the bottom ae the door. The room wis pitch black, noo that he’d switched the bedside lamp aff. The annoying thing wis that she suspected that he’d get tae sleep nae bother, while she’d be lying, tossing and turning, aw night fuming. The fact that the cat hid chosen his bedroom door tae scratch tae get in jist summed up how alone she wis feeling. Despite whit he believed, she did love the cat, apart fae when she wis woken first thing in the morning wae the bloody thing lying between them, purring away like the demented wheel ae a stopwatch. He’d goat aff lightly…they both hid. She’d anticipated a screaming match, maistly coming fae her side ae the table. They didnae argue much. In fact, she couldnae remember the last time they’d shouted at each other. Maybe he wis learning tae accept when he wis in the wrang efter aw. She’d wanted tae clank the gun aff the tap ae his thick skull as soon as he’d walked through the door, bit whit wid’ve been the point? Who the hell else did she know that wid hiv tae put up wae coming across a bloody gun at hame? Okay, maist ae the lassies back in the toon, bit other than them? When they’d been roond at Dolina’s fur the meal, aw the men in the company hid been speaking aboot their last shooting outing. Wan ae them hid suggested that Johnboy wid maybe want tae come oot wae them and gie it a go sometime.
“Ah’ve always hid a problem trying tae work oot whit kind a person wid want tae shoot a poor dumb animal and then go and justify it by claiming that it wis sport,” he’d replied subtly, killing the conversation, as everywan looked away, embarrassed.
Of course, some people might’ve taken that as a principled stand, bit fae him? It hid been the way he’d delivered it…a total slap-doon tae people he’d only jist been introduced tae. Even though she agreed wae his sentiments, it hid been so embarrassing. The fact that he couldnae see the parallel contradiction as tae whit they pals ae his, back in the toon goat up tae, made it even mair bizarre. Nae doubt they wid’ve hid the same attitude as him aboot shooting poor animals, bit when it came tae shooting people and then claiming efterwards that it hid only been business, seemed far worse than anything she’d heard that night at the party. Business?
“Look, if somewan’s gonnae hiv a pop at somewan like Tony or any ae the others, then of course they’re gonnae shoot the basturts back. At the end ae the day, it isnae personal, so it isnae. That’s jist wan ae the risks ae daeing business in a place like the toon. It’s aw very competitive, ye know,” he’d hid the cheek tae say tae her wan night, efter she’d arrived hame and telt him whit Jean hid come oot wae.
Seemingly, Peter hid turned up the previous night, withoot a scratch oan him, despite his jaicket hivving two bullet holes in it.
“Aye, well, jist in case ye’re wondering, something like that widnae happen tae me. And naw, Ah’ve never shot anywan either,” he’d added, feeling the need tae remind her, laughing.
That hid been Glesga life…everywan’s life, when she thought aboot it. Her pals, sitting at hame, wondering if that man ae theirs wis gonnae end up being shot or stabbed. Look at Snappy? Blasted tae death by a double-barrelled shotgun…and fur whit? A bit ae business? Why, oh why, wid he want tae bring a gun up north wae him? That’s whit she’d wanted explained tae her. And as fur they cardboard boxes? She wis bloody sick ae hearing aboot whit he hid in them whenever she came up wae a good idea or suggestion.
“Ach, we don’t need wan ae them. Ah’ve goat wan in a box somewhere.”
How could she live wae somewan that she couldnae trust? Aw the carry-oan wae The Laird and Heckie MacLeod. She only hid Johnboy’s word that it wis them that hid started targeting them. Angelina MacLeod hidnae mentioned that there hid been any trouble in the past. Why wid anywan want tae hiv go at them, total strangers, unless they wur retaliating fur something he’d done tae upset them? This wisnae Glesga. Since he’d trashed the lorry, everywan hid been talking aboot it. Ishbel MacKenzie hid seen tae that. When she’d gone intae the Spar the next night oan the way hame, efter he’d cleared the lorry aff the track, there hid been a definite drap in the volume ae chatter amongst the wummin congregated up at the coonter. It wis obvious that she wis the talk ae the steamie…her, that only wanted a quiet life and tae be wae the man she loved? He jist couldnae keep away fae trouble. She knew she wis stupid tae think he could. There wis no way she wis gonnae heid back tae the toon wae her tail between her legs. That wis his walk-oan part, no hers. She widnae be able tae face the lassies, even though they’d understaun and be welcoming. She’d sat there aw evening, looking across at the living room door, urging him tae appear, wan minute, so she could let him hiv it, then the next minute, no wanting a confrontation. She’d been blowing hot and cauld aw evening. At wan point, she’d even taken doon his folder fae the shelf that hid his typed sheets neatly stacked in it. She’d put it back jist as quickly, scared that she might discover who he really wis. The mair she’d sat thinking aboot the situation, the mair she’d come tae realise that, in actual fact, an auld doctor boyfriend ae hers, Rory Brand, hid been right. She didnae know Johnboy Taylor, the person who she loved and who shared her bed and life wae. If the truth wis tae be telt, she’d never known him. How weird wis that? She wis sure that she loved him dearly, bit it wis this other person that kept popping up unexpectedly that terrified her. It wis at times like this that she wondered whit the hell she wis daeing. Hid she jist been kidding hersel oan that somewan like her could change somewan like him? Okay, he’d only been freed, or liberated, as he called it, fae Dumfries Young O
ffenders Institution, the previous October. They wur noo well intae August, which made it nearly ten months since then. Wis that long enough fur somewan like him tae change his ways? If no, how long could it take and whit wis supposed tae happen in the meantime? She wondered how the hell Fanny Flaw, the Dumfries Young Offenders social worker, managed tae cope wae the likes ae The Mankys in a place like that. And that wis jist them. There wid’ve been plenty ae other mirror images, jist like the person lying next door, gaun aboot their business ae being a right pain in the arse, flouting the rules in everybody’s face at every opportunity. Wid somewan like Johnboy Taylor ever change? Could he? The Mankys hid been feral as weans…they still wur as adults, when she thought aboot it. Deep doon, she must’ve known that he wis still wild, bit it wis a sobering thought when she hid tae sit doon and admit it tae hersel. Despite his love and kindness towards her and others, like the caravan site owner oan the other side ae the hill, everything hid tae be oan his terms. He never declared that, bit it wis there in the way he conducted himsel. They wur aw like that. She knew fine well that if somewan like her hidnae awready known him, she wid’ve gied a wide berth tae the likes ae him. Despite him claiming that he wis actively trying tae make changes fur the better in his life, maybe she jist hid tae bite the bullet and accept wance and fur aw whit she’d deep-down awready known aw along. Johnboy Taylor, the man she loved, jist wisnae capable ae change and like they pals ae his, wis still a dangerous person. If he wisnae, then why the hell wid he hiv a gun hidden up her loft?
Chapter Fifty Six
He hated getting the silent treatment. If he wis honest wae himsel, he preferred the full-frontal verbal assault oan the senses. He felt mair comfortable dealing wae confrontation. It gied him something tae hing his coat oan withoot hivving tae be loitering aboot, feeling awkward, wondering whit wis coming next. Oan Senga’s part, she knew fine well that by ignoring his presence, it wid annoy him far mair than if she lifted up a pan and clouted him o’er the heid wae it. Fair enough. Mind games wur supposed tae hiv that kind ae effect oan the victim. That wis the negative. Oan the positive side…and whit she probably didnae realise while she wis inflicting it, wis tae somewan like him, the silent treatment meant that she wisnae finished wae the fight yet…which in turn suggested that any decision supposedly taken by her the night before in the heat ae the moment wisnae done and dusted yet. It telt him that there wis maybe a wee bit ae manoeuvrability possible oan baith sides. At least that hid been his logic earlier, whilst watching her play oot her haun. There hid been only wan way tae find oot if he wis oan the right track.
“Look, Ah’m no sure that we should be daeing anything rash that we’ll maybe regret later oan,” he’d said tae her, as she continued tae busy hersel, getting ready fur work, before snatching up a slice ae toast aff the plate that he’d jist placed doon oan the table, oan route fur the front door, loudly slamming it shut behind her withoot uttering a word.
Brilliant. It meant that he could get oan wae his business and deal wae the huff crisis later oan efter she came hame fae her work. He hid a busy day ahead.
“Right, let’s go, scabby arse,” he said tae the cat, stuffing the PPK doon the front ae his troosers and a magazine clip in each ae the back pockets ae his 501s.
He went up by the water supply tae check that everything wis as it should be, before retracing his steps, veering aff tae his right a couple ae hundred yards fae the crofthoose, towards the tap ae the cliffs overlooking Vestey’s Bay. He seldom used the rabbit path and hid only been doon it a few times since they’d moved up. At the end ae the path that first time, he remembered thinking tae himsel that if he ever wanted tae dispose ae a body, then slinging it aff the tap ae the cliffs there wid’ve been ideal. The massive vertical rows ae jagged rocks, that jutted up and oot ae the white foaming mass ae water below, ran horizontally alang the base ae the cliffs fur well o’er a mile, at least. It hid been low tide doon oan the beaches that first time, wae the virgin sand stretching oot towards the water fur aboot hauf a mile before it reached the surf. Fae where him and the cat hid been staunin though, the thrashing ae The Minch against the rocks hid continued unabated below. Looking doon intae the soapy, thrashing water, he reckoned that anywan searching widnae hiv spotted anything that hid been slung doon intae it…especially if it wis weighed doon. No that he ever envisioned a time when the need tae sling somewan doon intae it wid ever arise. Sizing up new surroundings wherever he went wis jist an instinctive throwback thing fae the jail or the streets, back in the toon. It wis jist another wee foible ae his that Senga couldnae get her heid aroond, he thought, smiling tae himsel.
“Look, ye’re no back in the tenements noo, ye know.”
He paused, looking up at the clear blue sky, as he slid the PPK oot fae his waistband. Maybe he should’ve goat shot ae it oan the way back fae Grizzly Chops the day he’d taken it alang as a precaution, when he’d gone tae make peace wae him. It wid’ve saved him a lot ae hassle. Senga hid been right though. Why the hell wid anywan, him, be wanting something as lethal as a semi-automatic pistol in a place like Lochinver? Taking advantage ae the fact that Grizzly Chops hid pulled a loaded double-barrelled shotgun oan him, widnae hiv gone doon very well if he’d used that as justification the night before. The issue fur Senga wis the fact that he hid a gun in the first place. That’s whit hid done the damage. He stuffed the gun back doon intae his waistband again, taking in the panoramic view o’er tae his left. Vestey’s Bay below wis totally deserted, while Achmelvich Beach beyond that wis full ae families wae their dugs running aboot in the shadow ae Canisp and Suilven in the distance. He hid tae admit the views wur stunning. Whit wisnae stunning, however, wis the dark figure running, crouched o’er, heidin in his direction before veering aff tae the right and disappearing. He dived doon behind a big lump ae moss-covered rock. He regretted bringing the cat wae him noo. When he peeped oot fae behind the rock, the landscape in front ae him wis deserted. He scanned the area. The only place the figure could’ve disappeared tae wis behind the hill, directly in front ae him, which overlooked the back ae the crofthoose. He looked aboot, his brain gaun intae overdrive. Other than the wee specs in the distance, lying under the sun or splashing aboot in the water doon oan Achmelvich Beach, there wis jist him and the cat. He wis sure he hidnae been imagining whit he’d jist clocked. By the time he reached his destination, he wis pissing wae sweat. There, no even twenty yards in front ae him, lying oan his stomach, looking through binoculars towards the back ae the crofthoose, wis PC Long Face himsel. He wondered where the basturt hid parked up his car. He couldnae see it fae where he wis staunin. He also wondered if the bizzy wis oan his lonesome or if there wur mair ae The Laird’s guys, like MacLeod, oot and aboot oan the loose. Since his recent chat wae Donna The Prima Donna doon at the phone box, he’d been trying tae come up wae a ruse that wid attract the attention ae The Laird away fae the toon, allowing Donna tae get oan wae setting her traps fur him.
“How am Ah supposed tae dae that like?” he’d asked.
“Ach, Ah’m sure somewan as sleekit as you will think ae something, Johnboy,” she’d cackled.
Moving slowly forward, he withdrew the PPK fae the waistband ae his troosers, stoapping ten feet or so fae the exposed treads ae the size elevens.
“Ur ye looking fur me?” he asked, as the bizzy let oot a startled, frightened yelp, spinning roond oan tae that back ae his, trying tae shade his eyes fae the sun, clearly no sure who it wis that wis staunin there wae a gun in his ootstretched haun pointing straight at him. “Oan yer feet, ya fucking chookter plonker, ye.”
Johnboy couldnae believe it. Despite the pish dribbling oot fae the bottom ae wan ae his trooser legs, he could tell that the stupid basturt wis swithering whether tae hiv a go at him.
“This is a Walther PPK-L semi-automatic pistol wae seven .32 bullets in the magazine. Admittedly, no the maist powerful haungun in the world,” he admitted, interrupting the desperate contemplation and no being able tae contain himsel, stealing the lines used by Clint Ea
stwood’s character, Harry Callaghan, in the film Dirty Harry. “The last time Ah saw wan ae these in action, the back ae the guy’s heid made a right awful mess ae somewan’s newly cherry patterned wallpapered office, so it did. Noo, that wis a fair wee while back and if Ah’m honest wae ye, in aw the confusion, Ah cannae exactly remember if it took jist the wan shot or if the gun wis emptied intae that heid by the psycho behind the trigger. So, Ah suppose, ye’ve goat tae ask yersel wan question. Dae ye feel lucky…well, dae ye, punk?”
“But…”
“Ye’ve goat exactly wan minute tae tell me whit the fuck ye’re daeing here and mair importantly, who sent ye?”
“But…please…” Jimmy Hill’s wee brother wailed in desperation, looking as white as a bed sheet, rooted tae the spot and starting tae bubble.
“Forty five seconds,” Johnboy reminded him, lifting up his wristwatch and glancing at it.
“It wisnae me, sir…I was asked…s…sent up here, by Heckie MacLeod.”
“Why?”
“I…I don’t know, sir.”
“Thirty seconds.”
“Please…honest, I chust don’t know…he…he wanted…wants to know if you’re at home.”
“Why?”
“I swear, please sir? I promise. I…I won’t take orders from him again.”
“Fifteen seconds.”
“Oh my God,” he sobbed, looking aboot in blind panic noo, before drapping doon oan tae they knees ae his. “I swear…I swear...please!”
“You’re supposed tae be the fucking law aboot here. Why did ye no get Customs and Excise oan tae him, ya corrupt, skinny basturt, ye? You fucking know fine well whit’s gaun oan doon in Vestey’s Bay wae that fish at high tide.”